


San'nin

by fetuscakes



Category: Dororo (Anime 2019), Dororo (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, Gen, Unconventional Families, description of a country at war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fetuscakes/pseuds/fetuscakes
Summary: What would happen if Dororo was not an orphan?Thank you Verse and eternal_song for helping me edit!!





	1. Sesshoku

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic before the episode 9 of the anime, so I based Hibukuro's death on how it happened in the manga.

She walked along the dirt path, the child clinging to her sleeve barely registering in the haze of hunger and exhaustion that seemed to cloud her vision. Ojiya felt as weary as though she and her family had crossed the entirety of Japan, the ache in her bones so strong that she feared they might snap if she put her foot down wrong. Perhaps they had even seen the entire known world, and all of it was war, famine and violence. There were many times she was close to giving up, when she wanted to just lie down and ask Hibukuro to lay beside her and die with her. But she couldn’t do that to her beloved Dororo, so she kept going.

How long had it been since she had that scare by the road? That ostentatious palanquin had stopped and the aristocratic occupant sent some rice cakes to Dororo out of pity. She could see it playing out in her mind: her husband would reject this pitiful charity, he’d start a fight with the samurai and they’d gang up on him and kill him. So she’d yanked Dororo’s hand before he was able to fully grab the cake, making it fall to the dusty ground. Dororo screamed and cried at her out of frustration and hunger when she wouldn’t let him eat it, but Ojiya wasn’t sorry. She’d do anything to keep her family alive and preserve their honour. They’d rather eat worms than take pity from those samurai.

How long had it been since then? A week? A month? The landscape had changed from plains filled with wildgrass, weeds and flowers to a more mountainous and forested area. They’d come across some rather gruesome battlefields, but judging by the bleached bones and rusted armor of the fallen soldiers, the area had been undisturbed for weeks, except by crows and other scavengers. Like themselves. Ojiya had confused feelings in her chest as she saw Dororo looting the rotten bodies, and smiling cheerfully whenever he found something valuable. Whether she liked it or not, her child was a child of war, and it would affect him no matter what he grew up to be.

In her dreams she sometimes saw her family as they should have been: simple farmers, untouched by the cruelty of the world. She and her husband would work the fields and then come home to their lovely children. Dororo would spend the day playing with her older siblings. _Wait, her?_ Even in her dreams, Ojiya admonished herself for slipping up. Dororo was not a girl. A girl would not be able to survive in this desperate, brutal, vicious world. Dororo had told his parents he was a boy, so he was. He was the son of cunning bandits, and he would grow up to be an artful thief himself. Ojiya’s dream of having a beautiful daughter to dote on was dead. It was dead on the same day samurai had shot down her two eldest children just for bow practice. It was dead the moment she discovered she had a resilient son instead.

* * *

 

It was a late summer evening with an autumn chill in the air, and Jukai felt pensive. A week ago, Hyakkimaru had suddenly grown a leg after killing a demon. Did that mean he could potentially recover more body parts? But the boy had been killing ghouls and demons for at least a couple of years and only now had this happened. Maybe there were some creatures in particular that held his body parts hostage.

The more Jukai thought about it, the more it seemed the only way to truly find out would be for Hyakkimaru to leave his home to find and kill more demons. And Jukai couldn’t see himself being part of that journey.

He could fight, yes, and he could also kill ghouls, but even a grown man like himself was no match for Hyakkimaru. It was disturbing how much and how well his young son could kill and Jukai knew it was because he couldn’t feel pain nor fear. Hyakkimaru would only know these senses if he went out and killed the demons that held them hostage.

 _It’s like a snake that eats its own tail_ , he mused with his head resting on his hand, _he must become more and more like a soulless killing machine before he can be truly human. And here I am the selfish fool, being more upset about not being able to go with-_

Just then he heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps outside. That was odd, his house was rather far from the village and Hyakkimaru was inside with him.

Getting up, he slid open the back door to his house, the one facing the rear garden and the well. Light from his house spilled into the rocks and weeds in his yard and onto the face of an incredibly weary looking man leaning on a staff, and reaching towards the well.

The two men looked at each other, each tense and seizing each other up. Jukai saw that the man was dressed like a peasant, but one used to fighting rather than farming. The scars on his face and arms and the fact that his staff was made off a spear without its tip seemed to attest to that. But he didn’t seem to be in fighting condition, as he was leaning heavily on the staff as his bandaged legs didn’t seem capable of supporting his weight.

“E-Excuse me, I was wondering if I could have some water?” The man’s voice was deep, and Jukai could easily imagine it being booming and commanding, but right now it just sounded cracked and defeated.

“Just water?” Jukai asked guardedly. In these times of war, farmers often became desperate enough to become bandits. This man might have limited use of his legs, but he looked strong and stout and he could probably really do some damage with that staff.

“I’m not here to rob you!” The man said, almost reading his thoughts. He then seemed to deflate. “Or perhaps I am. Maybe I’m here to steal water.”

“Well…” Jukai decided that even if this man was a thief, he was too honest. “I cannot lay claim to the water, as it comes from the sky and the ground and it belongs to everyone and no one. Help yourself to as much as you’d like.”

A faint shadow a smile crossed through the man’s lips. “Thank you.”

He waved over to someone in the darkness and two figures hesitatingly stepped into the light: a child and a woman dressed in rags. Jukai could immediately see that the child was the best fed of the three and he guessed the couple were the parents and had been giving all the food they could muster to their child.

He watched the family draw water from the well in his yard and take long drinks of water, making him wonder how long they had been travelling. All three seemed completely dusty, exhausted and malnourished.

Jukai was torn. He wanted to help and there was a time he would not have hesitated to invite strange people into his house, bandits or not. That was time when he truly did not care whether he lived or died and might even have welcomed being attacked, for he felt he deserved it. But now he was a parent and he had to care of himself to be able to take care of his son. Were these people a threat? Did he have enough food to feed three more mouths? If he invited them to stay, how long would it be before they left?

 _It’s a harsh world that makes me doubt the intentions of a starving family._ Jukai felt ashamed that he distrusted despairing people.The war had created countless refugees like this family, miserably wandering the countryside until they found better conditions or dropped dead from starvation.

Just then he felt someone tug at his sleeve, Hyakkimaru was beside him. Even though he was wearing a mask, Jukai could sense his son’s look was quizzical. He suddenly remembered that Hyakkimaru had the odd ability to know when people were being aggressive and deceitful. Whatever sense allowed Hyakkimaru to “see” also told him something about people’s dispositions, and it had allowed him to escape being bullied by ignorant townspeople. Jukai had observed him tense up and duck out of the way from unwarranted aggression enough times to know Hyakkimaru could perceive something, even if he could not hear.

And right now the teen was looking at this family as calmly as he observed birds or flowers, there was no hint of mistrust in his demeanor. So Jukai decided to trust them as well.

“Would you like to come in? You all look tired and hungry. I do not have much, but we can share some food.”

Hibukuro tensed up again when he heard the stranger’s suggestion. Why would someone offer food and shelter to intruders? What was his game? He’d had enough of sleazy men offering to buy a night with his wife for money, or worse, his child. With the help of his wife they’d certainly done a number on that last one, though it was more the pity he didn’t even have the money he’d offered. It was a small consolation to leave him without any teeth.

He took another long look at the stranger. He did not seem like a farmer, but he did not seem like a samurai either, his clothes were too shabby. A merchant perhaps? His clothes and his home seemed humble, but not destitute. The man probably knew a trade which kept him afloat in these desperate times. Maybe he really had enough food to share? From the looks of it, this man lived alone with that boy, presumably his son.

“We don’t take charity.” He said with a gruff voice. The stranger’s face looked downcast, but understanding. Had his offer been real? “But I will gladly work in exchange for food.”

“Ah, I don’t have anything that needs to be done right now, especially not at this hour. Why don’t...why don’t you three stay the night and tomorrow morning we can talk?”

Hibukuro and Ojiya exchanged glances. It was a tempting offer, almost too good to be true. They were hungry, cold and weary to the bone. But they also knew that one mistake could end this family’s long fight for survival.

It was Dororo who first stepped forward, though not to enter the house, but to get a better look at the teen standing next to the bearded man. Dororo had never seen a person like this before, with a unnaturally still and unemotional face, bandages that went from his neck to his chest and presumably the rest of his torso, and arms and legs with what appeared to have wooden joints. Was this even a real person, or a doll come to life? Somehow Dororo knew instinctively that this was indeed a person. He felt that he should be scared of seeing someone who was missing so many parts; but after seeing the rotting bodies of the battlefields, the dessicated corpses of starving peasants and even the yokai who enjoyed feasting on the cadavers and the negative emotions equally, his strongest emotion was curiosity.

The teen also regarded him, though his expression remained unnaturally neutral. He then turned around and walked deeper into the house, stopping only briefly to look at Dororo over his shoulder. Dororo took this as an invitation to follow, so he did.

“Dororo!” Ojiya cried admonishingly before he could step into the threshold. The boy stopped and turned to look at his mother.

“Are we going in or not, mama?”

Ojiya looked at her husband again, and this time he gave her the smallest resigned nod. She looked at the bearded stranger and bow deeply to him, and put her hand on the back of Dororo’s head so he would bow as well.

“Thank you for your hospitality, please continue to treat us kindly.”

“I am Hibukuro, this is my wife Ojiya and my son Dororo. We are in your debt. Well, at least until tomorrow.”

“I am Jukai, please come inside.”

* * *

 

Dororo heartily ate the stew of burdock root, carrots and barley that he was given and wondered why the bearded man apologized for not having anything better. Compared to what he had been eating with his family in the last few months, this was a feast! What did the bearded guy think his family expected, rice? Ha! As if they were royalty.

What made him the happiest was seeing that there was enough for his parents to have their own share. Even though his parents tried to hide it, he knew that they often lied to him about having already eaten. Dororo could not lie as easily about not being hungry, and when he did, his parents did not believe him. But there were no lies tonight, because there was enough for everyone!

When his bowl was clean and his tummy full he finally took a moment to truly look at his surroundings. The house was small and somewhat crammed with tools, books, clay jars and prostheses for arms and legs. It seemed odd that there were so many when the only person that needed them already had three or four attached to him.

Him. Dororo looked at the teen sitting cross legged across from him. By now he was fairly certain that face was a mask. What a curious person! Could he even talk?

“I’m Dororo! What’s your name?”

“Ah, this is my son Hyakkimaru. Sorry, he cannot talk.”

“Why is he wearing a mask?”

“To protect his face.”

“Why?”

“He...has a condition that affects his skin.”

“What sort of condition? Did he get burned? Is it something contagious? Was he born like that? How did he lose his arms? How can he stand if his legs are fake? What-”

“Dororo! That’s enough!” His father’s reprimand forced Dororo to shut up, but he was still brimming with questions.

To his annoyance his parents wished the bearded man and his son goodnight before he had a chance to ask anything else. He would have to find out more tomorrow.

* * *

 

Dororo woke up before his parents, not too long after dawn, though he was so comfortable he almost did not want to get up. Sleeping in a house was so much better than the outdoors, not least because he did not have to worry about wolves. His curiosity got the better of him, and he wanted to see more of this strange house. He carefully lifted his mother’s arm off him and got up as quietly as he could.

He started creeping around, wondering what his parents would do when they woke up. Would they stay a while? Or move again and keep trying to survive in the countryside? Staying here might be nice, but he had no idea how long the seemingly benign stranger would allow it. His parents did not seem to quite trust him, so Dororo would keep his distance as well. _Caution is the key to survival_. Picking up some books he couldn’t read, he silently wished there was a place all three of them could feel safe.

He looked up and saw a face that he recognized from yesterday. Or rather, half a face. The young teen with the mask was looking at him from outside the house, more than half his body hidden by the sliding door.

Dororo did not move for a second, trying to puzzle what Hyakkimaru was doing. Was he mad he was touching things without permission? But the teen was simply staring at him, not moving to stop him or or even come inside. Dororo put the book down and took a tentative step towards him. The other boy immediately disappeared from view.

Dororo froze again, staring intently at the spot where Hyakkimaru had been. Soon enough, he saw that sliver of a face again. As soon as he did, he took several steps forward, until the teen ducked away again.

Smiling now, Dororo waited until he was sure Hyakkimaru was peeking inside again and he sprinted forward with all his might. He was not fast enough, and by the time he reached the sliding door, Hyakkimaru had run along the outside of the house, quite out of his reach. Now he was looking at Dororo with his hand on the corner, clearly ready to run again.

Dororo was about to oblige him when he noticed something by his feet. A small, loosely tied, cloth bundle.

He reached down and opened it and was delighted to see it was full of ripe persimmons. He immediately devoured one, not caring that the sticky juice was running down his chin and his hands. He was about to bite into the second one when a thought gave him pause. He looked at the figures of his sleeping parents and tied the cloth bundle closed. He silently left the bundle at his father’s feet. _Food tastes better when you share it with your family._

He went over the well and pulled on the rope to draw up some water to wash his face. Unfortunately for Dororo, the bucket was full, making it extremely heavy. Try as he might, he could not empty the bucket to a volume he could draw up. He struggled to use his entire body weight to no avail when a shadow blocked out the early morning sun over him. Dororo tried not to be startled, but it was surprising that someone with wooden limbs could move so quickly and so quietly.

And Hyakkimaru definitely had wooden limbs. As he took the rope from Dororo, he braced his leg against the well to give himself some leverage. Up close, Dororo could see that the leg was well crafted, made of sturdy wood and expertly polished. But it was also full scratches and cuts and even what appeared to be bite marks. What on earth had been gnawing on Hyakkimaru? Dororo also noticed was that the right leg didn’t seem to be a prosthetic. At the very least, it was covered in bandages like his neck and chest.

Hyakkimaru finished drawing up the water and passed the brimming bucket to Dororo, who almost buckled under its weight. Dororo set it down and rinsed his face and hands and then looked up at Hyakkimaru’s face, or rather his mask.

“Why did you come help me? I didn’t ask you to!” His mutter sounded angry but his bravado was fake; he mostly wanted to see if the older boy could be provoked easily. Hyakkimaru remained silent, facing Dororo but not really looking at him. In fact, his eyes did not seem to focus on anything.

Curious, Dororo waved a hand in front of Hyakkimaru, and his eyes did not follow it. His eyes were fake as well! But then how did he know Dororo had been chasing him?

Dororo was simply bursting with curiosity about this odd fellow. He furtively took a swipe at him, trying to grab the edge of his sleeve. Hyakkimaru moved out of the way in a fluid movement without hesitation.

“So you _can_ see!” Dororo accused loudly, breaking the morning silence.

Hyakkimaru did not answer, he did not even appear to have heard. But he kept “looking” at Dororo and did not move from his spot.

The young thief made a much more audacious swing to grab Hyakkimaru and again the teen moved out of the way expertly, though he was forced to take a step backwards this time. Emboldened, Dororo started chasing Hyakkimaru around the yard, not really thinking of what would happen if he actually caught him.

The sounds of childish shrieking and laughing woke Ojiya up. She was surprised, because it was something she had not heard in a long time. For a moment she was completely disoriented, not remembering where she was. But as the world came into focus, she looked outside and saw her son chasing that odd boy they’d met yesterday. And then the boy chasing her son. They were running back and forth in the yard, without a care in the world, playing.

Playing. Like children.

Ojiya felt tears pricking her eyes and she tried hard to hold them in. Dororo was happy. Dororo was acting like a child his age. Dororo let out a scream of joy as he got captured and lifted over Hyakkimaru’s head.

Ojiya let the tears fall freely on her cheeks, deciding this was something really worth being excited over. The war had taken a lot of things from them, but her son’s happiness and innocence was not among the things they lost.

As she hastily shook her husband awake, she noticed that someone else was watching the scene, the generous stranger who had let them stay over, Jukai. His face was lot like hers, shock and delight alternating while he looked like he might cry as well.

He caught her eye and both parents, though strangers, shared a moment of mutual understanding.


	2. Katei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dororo family does not want to overstay their welcome at the kindly doctor's, but they feel like they cannot impose on him much longer. An opportunity to stay nearby comes up, but it carries a painful price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the amazing and lovely [eternal_song](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_song/pseuds/eternal_song) asked me to write a sequel to Sannin, so of course I had to!  
> Now that this is multi chapter I have some ideas on how to continue it ;)

They stayed over that night, because Jukai had asked them so many questions about their travels.

They stayed over that week, because Hibukuro insisted that he was not done repaying the doctor for feeding his family simply by gathering and chopping wood.  

At first, the family was rather taken aback by how many yokai regularly attacked Hyakkimaru and anyone near him. It had almost been reason enough to leave, but it soon became obvious that Hyakkimaru would not let any harm come to them, especially not Dororo. After the first month, both Ojiya and Hibukuro threw axes and cleavers at demons without thinking about it twice.

Dororo quickly got over his initial shock of seeing demons so close and before long he wanted to organize demon search parties with Hyakkimaru to help him get his body parts back. Jukai was quite grateful that Dororo’s parents were on his side in putting a stop to that, because he didn’t think he’d be able to stop the two boys from running off by himself.

But trouble seemed to find them anyway. During the middle of fall, the boys had gone into town to run some errands, and Dororo had noticed some men trying to drown a small black and white dog. He ran to stop them, and when the men turned their anger on him instead; he realized that Hyakkimaru had not followed. The teen was staring at a pile of floating garbage in the river instead. Dororo started to scream some choice curses at Hyakkimaru when the pile of garbage grabbed one of the men and swallowed him up. The man screamed as his flesh melted into the sludge. The other men ran away in terror, with the dog fleeing in the opposite direction. The sludge demon lunged at Dororo but Hyakkimaru repelled it armed with only his bokken.

It was a hard fight, but Hyakkimaru persevered and slew the demon. Dororo had waited until the fight was over to approach and commend his demon slaying, but before he could do so, Hyakkimaru started shaking violently. His mask fell away, prompting a yelp of surprise from Dororo, who barely had time to look up and see a layer of skin forming on his brother’s face.

The adults were so surprised and excited by Hyakkimaru getting his skin back that they forgot to scold Dororo for picking fights with grown men over a dog.

They stayed over until the end of the fall, because Jukai was helping Hibukuro regain some use of his legs, and he was steadily improving under his ministrations.

They stayed over the winter, because Ojiya insisted that it would be impossible to travel with the “heavy snow” in their way. Dororo looked outside and saw two or three stray snowflakes feebly flutter in the wind, melting as soon as they touched the ground. He didn’t say anything and huddled closer to his mother.

It was spring now and despite the blooming flowers and the lively bird songs, a strange sense of foreboding fell over the family of three. They were out of excuses.

Hibukuro looked at his wife and child, knowing that just a word from him would get them both ready to leave this place, but he could not bring himself to say it. He wished Jukai himself would tell them they had overstayed their welcome and that they had to go, but after getting to know the man, he knew Jukai would not throw them out. He let out a heavy sigh.

It wasn’t simply the fact that they were leaving a welcoming, friendly place. Jukai’s home offered stability and protection; something the outside world had denied them for as long as they had been wandering. But his pride would not allow him to let himself and his family be completely dependent on the kindness of another man, no matter what. How could he call himself a husband and a father if he was forced to rely on someone else to keep his family safe and fed? He might as well kill himself so Ojiya could marry Jukai!

And yet, the could not bring himself to throw his family again into the uncertainty of this land full of war and famine. They had avoided starvation so far, but how long would that last? Was he really willing to put all three of them at risk just to satisfy his own arrogance?

He shot an urgent look at Ojiya. One word from her, and he’d swallow his stupid pride. She was the only person in the whole world that he would listen to unquestioningly at a time like this.

She noticed his look and leaned forward to squeeze his hand. She looked forlorn, and Hibukuro knew that similar questions were boiling in her own head.

Dororo was doing practice fighting in the yard with Hyakkimaru, but his heart was not in it. He kept looking back at his parents and their pensive expressions and he knew they were pondering their departure. He did not understand why they could not stay. This house was great! Jukai was kind! Hyakkimaru was fun! They had plenty of food! Why did they have to be stupid and leave?

Hyakkimaru moved into his field of vision, interrupting Dororo’s glowering and dour thoughts. The teen knelt to put himself face to face with the younger boy and put his wooden hands on his shoulders. He was still not very practiced in making expressions, so his face was neutral as his soulless glass eyes stared directly into Dororo’s.

They had only known each other for a few months but Dororo was quickly becoming versatile in figuring out Hyakkimaru’s body language. He would even tease the doctor that soon he’d be better than him at knowing what he meant. Right now he knew Hyakkimaru wanted to ask him what was wrong.

“Adults are being weird over simple things, what else is new under the sun, Aniki?” He tried to casually dismiss the thought, but it lingered like a dark cloud. He slowly put his hand over those wooden fingers. “I bet if you told your father that you wanted us to stay, then he would insist we stay. He spoils you quite a lot, you know!”

Despite knowing Hyakkimaru was blind, Dororo found himself avoiding his gaze. “You _do_ like us, right Aniki? You’re like my brother! My incomplete, foolish brother, but I don’t mind.”

Hyakkimaru appeared to listen to this and think about it. He then leaned closer and cupped both Dororo’s cheeks in his wooden hands and gently squeezed them.

Dororo blushed brightly and shoved Hyakkimaru away. “Jeez, aren’t you chummy all of a sudden! Anyway, we have to keep practicing! I’m not letting you win!” He turned back to the bokken and smiled as he crouched to pick it up.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hibukuro, Ojiya, could you come with me, please? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

The couple exchanged a curious look with each other before rising to follow the doctor. The three walked into the sparse woods close to the house and into a path which had once been quite worn but now was covered in brambles.

Ojiya was about to ask where they were going when an intense sense of foreboding struck her. Up ahead she saw a house in between the trees and she shivered. She had been here before but had always avoided this area in the winter when she set traps for rabbits. There was something about this place that made her blood run cold.

Hibukuro also looked rattled, but he did not waver. When he noticed she was slightly behind, he took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

This ominous pressure affected Jukai as well; he looked unnerved and pale. He took a calming breath.

“That house used to belong to the Toyama family many years ago, before I moved into this area. It always gave me goosebumps so I simply avoided it until now. I went to town to ask about the previous occupants. It seems the whole family died tragically— most of the members were killed by roving soldiers and the one survivor came back here and committed suicide. Ghastly business.”

Ojiya looked at the house with aversion. “Why are you showing us this?”

Jukai looked slightly abashed.

“Things are not meant to sit in disuse until they rot. I thought… I thought perhaps we could clear this house of the curse or ghost that’s haunting it and you… and… well, you could live close to me and my son.”

The couple was speechless, staring alternately at the doctor and the house.

“You want us to live in a haunted place?” Hibukuro finally asked.

“No, of course not! We would first need to lift the curse on this place.”

“Is such a thing possible?”

Jukai looked at the ground and then the house.

“I wasn’t much of a believer in the supernatural until I met my son, and even then it wasn’t until I saw him interacting with yokai and demons that I was truly convinced such things truly exist. I think this could work.”

Ojiya looked at the house more closely. It was dilapidated and sad-looking, but it wasn’t crumbling to pieces despite the years of neglect. In fact, it looked comparatively fine for a structure left abandoned for over a decade and a half.

“Hyakkimaru-kun can see and hunt demons, right? How come he hasn’t disposed of this one?”

“That’s the other thing that gives me hope for this place. Whatever entity is here isn’t actively malicious, or my son would have destroyed it years ago. If it’s a ghost and it moves on to the next life, this should be fine.”

He took something out of his sleeve and offered it to Hibukuro.

“I bought these purifying salts at the temple, they might help.”

“Did you think to buy protective talismans too?” The bandit asked as he gave the clay pot an unconvinced look, earning an elbow in the ribs from his wife. “Wh— I mean—” He shot a quick glare at her. “Thank you for thinking of us and buying this.”

Jukai’s look of desperate relief made Hibukuro feel guilty for his skepticism.

“So will you try? I’ll help, of course!”

The couple looked at the house with apprehension. Even before meeting Hyakkimaru and seeing the host of foul creatures that haunted him; they had been in enough battlefields strewn with bodies, enough abandoned towns riddled with skeletons to know that yokai were real. Though they could not always fully see the evil spirits and demons dancing on the misery of humans, their evil presence and their hideous laughter was evidence enough.

Hibukuro hesitated. He had never fought anything supernatural until he started living here and even in that regard he was sure that this ghost was different from the fiends that regularly attacked Hyakkimaru. His legs were much better now, but they would never be fully healed. Would he able to defeat it with strength alone? Would that even be the right course of action? He looked at his wife for answers and found her giving Jukai an assessing stare.

“Why go through all this trouble, Jukai-san? This is more than most people would do.”

 

Jukai scratched his nose, looking for an answer. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve been desperate for adult conversation after living with my mute son for so many years?” He chuckled weakly but stopped when he saw the unconvinced look on Ojiya’s face.

He sighed and shrugged in a resigned way.

“To be quite honest, I don’t know what is it that draws me to your family, but I’ve grown fond of all of you in this short time, and so has Hyakkimaru. Especially with Dororo! I’ve never seen my son quite so expressive or so alive, and I’m overjoyed to see it now.”

He wrapped his arms around himself. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me to hinder you on your journey just because it benefits me and mine. I should be grateful we have passed the last few months in such peace. I wanted...I wanted that to continue.”

Ojiya stepped forward and grabbed Jukai’s hand.

“We like you as well, quite a lot! Our children play with each other as if they had been brothers since the beginning. You’ve treated us with the utmost kindness, more than we could ever repay!” She took her husband’s hand with her free one. “I think we would rather stay. Wouldn’t we?”

It was more of an affirmation than a real question, but Hibukuro was glad she asked him.

“We want to stay, and if this is the way to do it, so be it.”

The three of them smiled at each other, but the moment turned somber when they looked at the house again. This would not be an easy task.

The house was bigger than Jukai’s, and more stately. Hibukuro, not knowing or caring much about architecture, would have called it shinden-zukuri style, because it reminded him of the mansion of the magistrate his bandit band raided. In reality, it had been the house of a merchant with fancy airs who had tried to copy the style of the aristocracy, but had only been able to afford a facade of it.

As they approached the entrance, the feeling of foreboding intensified exponentially. Ojiya clutched her hand to her chest, breathing heavily. Despite the clear spring breeze, she felt as if she was suffocating in warm and heavy air. Her husband’s hand felt cold and clammy in hers and she did not remember letting go of Jukai’s.

Then it was gone. The heaviness, the foreboding, the sense of dread; it all abruptly disappeared. Ojiya felt as if she had suddenly gone deaf with the sudden lack of pressure from all sides. It took her a moment to readjust, and listen to the normal sounds of nature around them. The trickling brook was still there. Chatterings of birds, frogs, and squirrels filtered through, though there were some ways off.

She did not know whether this change was good or a sign for something much worse, but she did not wait to find out. She slid the door open and stepped inside.

At that moment, she realized that she was alone.

* * *

 

She stands at the beginning of a long hallway, and she hears the roar of rain even though the day had been sunny and clear outside. She carefully steps further inside, grimacing at the feeling of wet wood on her bare feet. The hallway is narrow and flanked by paper sliding doors which are completely destroyed, with barely any scraps of soggy paper clinging to the wooden frames. She should have been able to see into the rooms through the sliding door remnants, but everything is so completely pitch black Ojiya wonders how as she is able to see any of the hallway at all.

She walks the length of the hallway, hearing the wind outside, dripping inside the house and her own wet footsteps. She reaches a fusuma sliding door with heavy water damage that looks like it has human skin stretched over it. She looks more closely and discovers that the texture is from mold and water stains. It isn’t skin, human or otherwise.

Breathing slightly easier, she walks back to the front door to talk to the men about this.

She walks back, past the ruined paper doors, over the puddles of water, and reaches… a water-damaged fusuma door. Her breathing hitches again as she slides the door open to reveal a dark, wet hallway.

 _Right_ , she thinks to herself, _this won’t be easy_.

_“It won’t.”_

Ojiya startles. That voice that sounded inside her head was not her own, but it didn’t come from the dark rooms around her either.

She tentatively walks down the hallway again, and this time at the end there’s a corner instead of a door. Turning the corner, the hallway continues, but now there’s a big open room with no destroyed paper doors in front of it. She can see ruined tatami on the floors.

_“You’ve killed before.”_

It’s the same voice, right inside her head but also distant. Ojiya doesn’t deny this thought.

_“You’re here to kill again.”_

This time Ojiya opposes this thought.

 _“Why would you kill unless you enjoy violence? Is wanton murder your pleasure_ _?”_

She tries to give an articulate response. _Let me...show you?_

_It’s Ojiya’s old village, where she used to live with her parents and her brothers and her sisters._

_It’s Ojiya’s old village, where she got married. She left her parent’s house to live with Hibukuro, and soon enough their children were born. She still saw her parents and her siblings often._

_It’s Ojiya’s old village, and her children were murdered._

_Her children, her brothers, her mother, all massacred on the same day. Her younger sisters, dragged away, to be hurt, to be used._

_Before that day, she had never held a sword. Fortunately, it felt good in her hand, natural and righteous._

_She got lucky, getting a surprise kill on the samurai she stole the sword from. That’s all she needed._

_She helped free the village men and arm them. She found the tent where her sisters had been forcibly hauled off to. She found the captain of the force that attacked her village, and she stabbed him before he had time to be surprised that a woman brandished a sword at him._

_She cut off his head and put it on a pike._

_It’s no longer her village. It’s a gravesite for her old life._

_“It was revenge. Revenge, and nothing more.”_

Ojiya feels the voice leave her head and stands alone in the damp, dark hallway. Her eyes are wet and she wishes Hibukuro was here.

* * *

 

Hibukuro gasps for air and tries not to lean on the derelict frames of the paper doors. His legs are giving him a lot of trouble— they’re almost as bad as when he first got injured. In retrospect, it was a bad idea to try to outrun the disembodied voice. He throws the purification salts to try to repel the ghost, but he doesn’t know in which direction to aim. He even tries throwing it upwards, but all that does is make it rain salt on him. He looks to both sides of the hallway, both equally dark and unlikely to lead him to the way out. The rotten paper door frames let him see a little into the rooms, but not much. The wall closest to him is filled with hundreds of tiny insect holes that looked like drops of blood in the murk. He thinks he sees insects crawling on the floors and the wall in his peripheral vision, but whenever he tries to focus on them they disappear.

_“Why did you kill?”_

He shakes his head, not trusting the voice or its intentions at all. But the voice is insistent and it asks a question that’d he’s always been proud to answer. He closes his mouth and inhales at the same time as he draws himself to his full height. _Do you want to know why?_

_We used to farm the land. We used to pay taxes to the lord. This was fine for many years._

_But sometimes the crops failed, or bandits stole them, and yet the taxes remained the same. We had to give up our food to pay the taxes. Then we had to borrow money to pay for our own food. The debt made it harder to pay taxes. This went on until the situation was impossible._

_We asked for mercy from our lord. We begged him for understanding. We only asked to keep enough food to feed our families, everything else could go to him._

_But he did not agree. He was angry. He decided to make an example of us._

_Because that’s the natural and righteous order of things, the farmers serve the lord or else they die. We used to believe that._

_Was it natural for the lord’s soldiers to kill my brothers? Abuse my sisters? Burn our houses?_

_What’s right is wrong. It’s unreasonable. It’s_ **_unfair_ ** _._

_It wasn’t until after we finished killing the soldiers that we knew our children were slain too. That’s when we knew. That’s when I knew. Why I kill. Why it must be done. Why they must die._

_“You cry for justice. Justice and pride.”_

Outside the wind rattles against unseen windows and wood panels, and Hibukuro finds himself alone. He inhales again, this time shakily and wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand. He misses Ojiya.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jukai walks through a long, dimly lit hallway. The paper sliding doors on the sides are immaculate, and wood under his feet is warm and solid. And yet, he’s uneasy.

He hears soft murmurings around the corner. He turns the corner and sees the empty hallway stretch further, the paper doors closed shut. Apprehension grows in his chest. He’s walking the same length of hallway over and over. Paper doors on either side, turn right at the corner, now there’s a wooden wall on the left and paper doors on the right, always shut. He turns right again to open a fusuma door. He keeps hearing voices, sometimes from around the corner, sometimes from within the rooms he can’t open the doors to. He keeps going, the heaviness in his chest growing.

_“Why did you do it?”_

He pauses. This voice was not muffled and distant like the others, but he can’t pinpoint a source.

_“Why did you kill?”_

He screws his eyes shut and presses forward, opening the fusuma door. The hallway is the same, yet different. The light seems more diffused and the air heavy.

 _“Who were those innocent souls you took?_ ”

Turn right, there’s the wall. Turn right again, slide open the door. The hallway is trashed now, the paper doors full of holes and tears. There’s heavy gashes and scuffs on the floor. He keeps going. There’s bloodstains on the paper doors and heavy blood pools on the floor.

_“Did you think you could hide it? Did you think you could get away with it?”_

Turn right, there’s the wall. Turn right again, slide open the door. The hallway is incredibly dark this time, all the paper doors destroyed, but he doesn’t dare look within the rooms. He keeps walking along the wet floor.

_“Answer me!”_

“I don’t— I don’t pretend I’m innocent.” His voice is hoarse, barely his own. “I tried to—to commit suicide. It didn’t work.”

_“You think your life is worth as much as theirs? Did you think that would make it right?”_

He slides open the fusuma door and the hallway is lit and dry again, but wrong. The floor, the ceiling and the sliding doors are made of flesh. He can hear it squish underneath his weight, but he’s too numb to feel it.  
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

                        I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

         I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

                                                                         I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Hibukuro can see the insects crawling on the paper door frames clearly now and they don’t bother him. Why should they? He’d spent his life mostly outdoors, and he’d been living as a vagrant until recently. He still has that jar of purifying salts and for a moment he considers dumping it on these critters, but decides against it. The little isopods, earwigs, and centipedes seem almost cute in comparison to what he’s had to deal with.

A small silver spider rappels from the ceiling and hovers in front of his face. It’s so small and light that it’s nearly transparent. He holds out his hand and the tiny spider lowers itself onto his finger.

 _What’s your name?_ He thinks this subconsciously, knowing the spider will not answer. He nearly jumps when the voice comes back into his head.

_“Why? Why do you care?”_

He didn’t consider that the ghost would reply. But he realizes this is a good opportunity. He tries to gather his thoughts, wondering if the ghost could perceive them or only the ones he wants to project.

_You sound...like you were in a lot of pain. I think you have suffered as I have suffered._

_“We are not the same. You survived. You still have your family,”_ The ghost insists.

_It’s true I have some of my family left, but the pain is still there. It’s still real. As is yours. Won’t you tell me your name?_

There was another pause before the voice comes back, and this time it is softer.

_“Ayako.”_

 

* * *

 

Ojiya looks around in the total darkness and notices a fusuma door along the wall. Just from looking at it she can tell it’s the one that will lead her outside. She reaches for it but hesitates. They had come here with a mission, and perhaps there was a way to accomplish it. Slowly withdrawing her hand, she closes her eyes.

How does one talk to a ghost? She tries to remember how she told the ghost her story and sends out another mental message as best she can.

_Is this how you want it to end?_

At first, there is silence. After several minutes, as Ojiya considers giving up and heading outside, the presence returns to her mind.

_“What do you mean?”_

_Holding on to your pain without moving on. It seems...awfully lonely._

_“You have no right to talk. You avenged your family. I never got that chance.”_

_That’s true, and yet…_ Ojiya brings her hand to her forehead, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. _Revenge did not make the pain go away, it barely alleviated it. I thought I could kill every single soldier in this country and it would not be enough to make up for the death of my children. Nothing would. I do not regret my revenge but...being with my family, loving them and being loved, that’s what helped me._

_“That’s not an option for me, is it?”_

_Not the way things are. But what if your family is waiting for you in Yomi? Or perhaps they have reincarnated by now, and they want you to move on to your next life?_

_“What makes you so sure there’s an afterlife?”_

_I’ve seen many battlefields and many towns filled with the dead, but you’re the first spirit I meet so directly. Surely all those souls go somewhere?_

Ojiya swallows hard and decides to admit something she’s been holding on tightly for years.

 _It’s my greatest wish that there is a place in Yomi or Tengoku where the souls can meet, because that means there is a chance that I will see my dear children again after I pass._ Tears start spilling from her eyes. She takes a shaky breath and continues. _I miss them— so much— every day. Sometimes so much it physically hurts. But the idea of them being in a realm without pain and suffering gives me solace. Maybe they have reincarnated already, and are living happily._

_I never felt their presence around me the way I feel yours. That’s how I know they’ve moved on from this realm. Forgive my impertinence, but I think your family would want you to move on as well._

The ghost is silent, though Ojiya can still feel their presence occupying space in her head.

 

* * *

 

_Ayako, is this what you want? To be a spirit in this house with only bugs to keep you company?_

_“Awfully direct, aren’t you?”_

Hibukuro scratches his nose a bit self consciously.

_“Also, bats aren’t bugs.”_

He can't help but smile into the darkness.

The ghost does not answer, but her presence feels less hostile. The rooms and hallways are still dark, but the air feels significantly less oppressive and stifling.

 _I ask because-_ He pauses, wondering if this line of conversation will make this hallway inhospitable again. _I’ve heard that spirits that cannot move to the afterlife forget who they once were and become malicious yokai._

The room temperature definitely drops after he finishes this thought.

_“What makes you think I’ll forget who I am?”_

Even as a disembodied voice, the tone makes it sound like she has her back to him saying this.

 _Because people forget who they are even when they’re alive._ He steels himself before saying something rather personal. _It’s actually...my greatest fear. Forgetting my roots. Forgetting why I do what I do. Why I put my family through such trials. I fear losing myself in the now and forgetting the why. I’m lucky. I have my wife and child to keep me centered. But you Ayako, you are alone and you could lose yourself. And, well, that would be a shame._

There’s no answer and room gets darker. Hibukuro fears he put his foot in it and wonders if he cursed himself to wander these hallways forever. To his surprise, the fusuma door opens by itself and Ojiya enters the room. He cries out her name and rushes to meet her. She jumps to his arms and they embrace tightly.

 

* * *

 

Kneeling on the floor, the two held on to each other until the opening of the paper doors interrupted them. It was then they noticed that the abnormal darkness was gone, and rays of midmorning sunlight found their way through holes in the dilapidated walls. The hellish interminable hallway was gone and now they could actually see from one end of the house to the other through fallen or broken paper sliding doors.

In the middle of the house, there was a teenage girl dressed in white. A rather transparent girl, sitting in seiza rather formally as if she was just waiting.

Hibukuro blinked. “Ayako?”

The ghost looked at them with piercing eyes and motioned them to come forward. The two got up gingerly and came close enough to sit in front of her.

_“I’ve thought about what you two said and I think you’re right. I don’t know if I’ve been holding on to my pain for three years, or thirty. I no longer remember the faces of my parents or my brothers. I can only remember my dear sister, and even now her name escapes me.”_

She flicked her razor-sharp eyes at them.

_“I know that you came in here with the prospect of having this house. Well, you can have it, but only on my terms._

_“First: you must give my body a proper burial.”_ She shifted to show she was sitting on a moldy skeleton, her clothes and flesh long rotten away.

_“I want a funeral pyre with a proper prayer, and to have my bones in a real grave._

_“Second: I want you to tell your children and your grandchildren and all your descendants the truth of how you acquired this house._  

Hibukuro wanted to say something along the lines of “if we live that long” but he bit it back and nodded.

 _“Third: no gets killed in this house. No, just listen.”_ She interrupted their protests before they could even begin. _“I know this is a time of war and that it has an awful way of finding people even if they try to avoid it. What I’m asking is that you don’t commit murder, justified or otherwise, here. These walls have already absorbed a lot of human blood. Any more and I fear the house itself will become evil.”_

Ojiya nodded in grim agreement and then waited for the ghost to continue, but she didn’t. “Is that— is that all?” She ventured, not wanting to offend Ayako.

_“Yes, I suppose that’s all. I’m going to try to find the Sanzu river and say hello to King Enma. Wish me luck.”_

Ojiya put her hands on the floor and bowed deeply in gratitude and her husband followed suit. When they looked up the transparent figure of Ayako was getting fainter and fainter.

 _“Maybe you should tell that man I won’t torment him any longer”_ was the last faint words they heard in their minds.

“Who?” Hibukuro whipped his head around and saw a figure curled up at the entrance of the house. He got up to approach them and realized who it was.

“Jukai-san! Are you alright?”

Jukai didn’t answer. He had a haunted expression and wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Did the ghost— I mean, Ayako— did she make you relive some bad memories?” Ojiya knelt next to the doctor and put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “She did the same to us.”

Jukai opened his mouth as if he wanted to answer, but no sound would come out. He put his hand over his mouth and then over his eyes.

The front door of the house slid open with a loud snapping noise and all three adults turned to see Hyakkimaru stepping over the threshold with an irritated Dororo in tow. The teen didn't take his eyes off the space were Ayako’s ghost had faded, even though no one else could see her there anymore.

“Finally!” Dororo cried out in frustration and went to his parents. “Where were you guys! You’ve been gone for hours!” He scolded his parents, putting his hands on his hips in a perfect mirror to the way Ojiya did it. “Aniki was getting quite worried! I had to follow him to make sure he wouldn’t start crying and then we couldn’t slide open that door up until now!”

“Dororo!” Hibukuro couldn’t help but pull his son into a hug, which confused the kid all the more, especially when he saw Jukai.

“What’s going on? Why were you even inside this house? What’s wrong with Jukai-jiisan?”

“I’ll explain everything, but it looks like we’re moving in here. We’ll be Jukai-san’s neighbors.”

“Wait, do you mean that? Really? We can stay? Aniki! Mom! Did you hear that? We’re staying!”

Hyakkimaru couldn’t hear, but he could feel the exuberant energy radiating from the three white souls in front of him. He turned to the other soul, his familiar soul, the one whose energy was the complete opposite. It worried him. He had never seen their energy so low and so negative. He cautiously crouched in front of them and leaned forward to touch their arm. The familiar soul looked up and wrapped their arms around Hyakkimaru, their body trembling slightly.

Hyakkimaru didn’t understand. The spirit that had haunted this house had often changed colours, but had never been fully red. Before it departed it had fully turned into a golden colour. So why was his familiar soul so upset in its presence?

For the first time, Hyakkimaru’s expression morphed into a frown of worry. His familiar spirit noticed and reached out to touch his face, their hand tracing Hyakkimaru’s scrunched eyebrows. Hyakkimaru’s grimace had succeeded in interrupting their outpouring flow of negative emotions, though they were still distraught.

Getting an idea, Hyakkimaru changed his face again, this time he raised his eyebrows really high and stuck out his tongue. This got the result he wanted: he had fully distracted his familiar spirit. He puffed out his cheeks and saw a tinge of warmth in their aura. The misery was still present in them, but he’d managed to stop the downward spiral of despair.

“Hyakkimaru, are y-you trying to cheer me up? You’re just… m-making silly faces.” Jukai’s voice was hoarse and he still felt as if there was a void in his chest where his heart should be. But Hyakkimaru’s presence helped him come back to reality, helped him breathe. He even managed to feebly smile as he leaned forward to nuzzle his forehead against his son’s. “You’re a silly boy,” he said, full of love for his child.

Hyakkimaru did not return the nuzzling, but Jukai did not mind, because he knew he could not really feel it. What really surprised him was seeing the small smile on his son’s face when he leaned back.

“Aniki! Get over here! We have to pray for this girl Ayako’s safe journey to the afterlife and then we have to clean this house!” Normally Dororo would not disturb the father and son when they were having a moment, but he was too excited. He ignored his parents shushing him and their attempts to stop him from running around the entire length of the house. His family had a home they could call their own, and it was so close to Hyakkimaru’s house!

By Dororo’s third lap around the house, Ojiya gave up trying to stop him and leaned back to gather her thoughts. She still felt raw with the memories she had been forced to relive. But she also felt lighter somehow, having admitted the truth to the ghost. She truly never felt regret for her revenge, and she really did hope her children, her brothers, and her mother had passed on peacefully. She decided that when they made a shrine, it would be for her family, for Hibukuro’s and Ayako’s.

She looked at Hibukuro and met his eyes. He was thinking the same thing. He looked around the house and gave a dramatic resigned sigh for her benefit. It would take a lot of work to bring this house back in shape. But it was their house now. She leaned forward and kissed him and felt the smile play on his lips when she let go.

They were home.

  



End file.
